


Cocktails for Two

by LadyJaneSlay1554



Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: Alcohol, Ambiguous Recognition, Bar, Breast, Cocktails for Two, Consensual Sex, Dirty Talk, Drinks, F/M, Flirting, Heterosexual Sex, Neck Kissing, One Night Stands, Oral Sex, Sex, Teasing, Touching, Walk Into A Bar, cocktails, neck biting, shots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:21:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21898108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyJaneSlay1554/pseuds/LadyJaneSlay1554
Summary: Magnus and Abigail both want to escape.  No recognition, no guilt, no expectations for any relationship.Drinks, touches, passions and fleeting pleasure.  Isn't that all one can hope for when one is but a minor player in Dethklok's world?Recently updated for a smoother, better reading experience.[Circa Mid-Season 4]
Relationships: Magnus Hammersmith/Abigail Remeltintdrinc
Kudos: 8





	1. Abigail's Long Day

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks, Lurking_scarecrow, for helping feed this cray-cray OTP of mine.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abigail's feeling the stress of working for Dethklok and just wants a damn drink and chance to escape.

Abigail doesn’t feel like she looks her best… she’s just in there for maybe a quick cosmo. When she woke up this morning, she didn’t plan on things to go so stressfully…. Just her second week at Mordhaus and there are unending phone calls, heaps of would-be songs to wade through, lists of notes to compile. All the while, to have that manager – Offdensen - breathing down her neck, asking about her sound engineering progress. Then there’s that insufferable Knubbler - the old engineer with the mechanical eyes – texting and calling her, asking for a time to brainstorm, exchange ideas, collaborate and finally for a frickin’ DATE, for goodness’ sake. Being the new producer for a multi-krillion dollar industry band is certainly no walk in the park. A drink is surely what she needs, right?

She just wants to be happily buzzed. Maybe find a random handsome hot-blooded guy to help her feel better about herself. She thinks she kind of looks frumpy in her pantsuit, but who cares? Some guys go for the buttoned-up business lady type. At least she doesn’t look like the regular basic tramps hanging out at most bars. She’s got class, dammit! She’s a successful producer – a respected sound engineer, a catalyst for change for the better, more efficient in so many bands. "The Record Cleaner."

But Abigail isn’t alone at the “City Museum” – a fair-sized bar with an assortment of black and white photos, letters, pieces of clothing, portraits and even some carefully preserved daguerreotypes on the walls. The 30-something German bartender/owner, Gutrune, caters to a few couples sitting in some high booths, a handful of single middle aged men seated at the bar and…

Who is THAT?

Abigail is floored when she first sees him, so tall and striking. He’s straightening out his coat on his seat. Dressed in black in heeled cowboy boots, he must stand 6’8” tall. Messy wavy dark brown hair falls down the upper part of his back. Silver strands frame his face in three almost-carefully organized sections. He wears a skull belt buckle with wings, and his black causal button-up is open, even on this chilly evening, revealing a slightly-ripped frame, accented with dark, sparse chest hair. An almost-too-long goatee hangs from his chin, also streaked with silver. She notices his left eye is clouded over as he looks up at her as she enters, her low heels clacking on the hardwood floor and drawing his attention. 

Dim recognition makes her screw up her mouth in puzzlement – she’s seen his picture SOMEWHERE, but WHERE? That’s a face she can’t forget, although she seems to have managed to misplace it. He gives her the faintest of smiles, and motions to the seat next to himself. Transfixed, she takes it, nodding at him with a slight smile and ordering a cosmo for herself. She’s always had a thing for silver foxes. Deep respect, deep admiration. Now, it’s turned into a deep lust for slightly older, tall, dark, strangers. This guy is the dictionary definition of that term.

She cautiously, carefully, looks at the man sitting next to her, now deep in thought over his drink, guarding his Jack on the rocks like it’s a precious jewel. But those fine features – a sculpted jaw, a good set of teeth, a piercing brown eye, a cloudy white one – can he even see out of it? She hopes he doesn't notice her staring at him - gotta look away, quick! She fixes her eyes on a couple’s 19th century wedding portrait.

Abigail draws a deep breath in and out. Easy, girl. It's been a long day. Don't screw this up now. She needs to get him talking. What is this guy’s story, anyway? She takes a hearty swing of her cosmo, giving herself some liquid courage as it enters her empty stomach. This looks like a guy who has been through the world and hasn’t always had it easy. Frown line wrinkles give testament to a man who has survived and endured hardships. 

Not to mention a guy who looks like that - and who has a body like that - would probably absolutely rock between the sheets. Hell, yeah. She's noticed that sizeable bulge in his black jeans.

She bites her lower lip as she notices him eyeing her up and down....


	2. Magnus and the Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus checks out his seatmate.

Magnus turns his gaze on the young woman. He’s seen her before, but where? The guitarist can’t put his callused finger on her. But she’s somehow familiar. But who really cares about that? She’s a total babe. Could she be in her late 20s? Early 30s? 

She wears that pantsuit surprisingly well. He can see she’s popped the few high buttons free on her business shirt and a hint of decent cleavage shows. Her skin is a beautiful shade of deep amber – she must be part Native American or something. The woman wears her dark brown curly hair down, and it frames her face nicely. Her near-turquoise eyes sneak glances at him – coy little vixen!

He wishes she’d turn around so he could get a look at her ass. 

Magnus can tell she’s stressed out – looks like she’s had a long day. Her makeup is a bit smudged and her shoes are slightly scuffed. He motions to the seat next to himself as she gives him a ghost of a smile. She sits after daintily walking over. 

He decides to ignore her and let her order her own drink first to gauge how interested she is in him. He studies his drink as he almost FEELS her eyes rake over him. She’s judging him, just like everyone else does. The height, the eye, the craggy face, the open shirt, the cowboy boots. But, maybe he’ll get lucky with this one, though. This chick actually seems genuinely interested. In a good way. In a “I need to escape with someone way.” Somehow, he just knows it. And, from what he’s seen, he wouldn’t mind being that someone, if only for just a night.

If she is, and if they both decide to kick their inhibitions to hell, who knows what damage they could do to one another. Hell, how long has it been since he’s had a wild night with a gorgeous gal like this one? He doesn’t want to count the… weeks? Months? He could show her so many things – that slim body of hers would be hard pressed to take all he has to offer. 

Would she be submissive enough for him – a business woman like that? He’d love to make her beg, plead, get down on her knees and worship him like the king he ought to be. He turns his head to look at her, catching her glance as she slowly looks away and sips her cosmo. 

Magnus eyes her mouth – what pretty, dark lipstick. He pictures it smeared across his face like warpaint. Across his chest, down his stomach…. Maybe up and down his cock, too. Just how much of his cock could she possibly fit in her prim little mouth? He imagines her trying to swallow his more-than-average length – she’d look so pretty choking on it - and his jeans suddenly feel tight. He swigs his Jack and shifts in his seat. But his gaze has morphed into a stare.

She gets brave enough to finally look at him and he continues to stare right at her.

That EYE. He knows she’s fascinated by it.

She would be such a treat for him ... a dove to his raven. A lamb to his wolf.


	3. Cocktails for Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conversation starts.

“What’s your poison?” Abigail asks.

"More than you could ever handle." Magnus eyes her pink drink. Scoffs and looks at her.

She sips it delicately. Looks at him. Dares to lick her lips in the sexiest way she can. Then she drains the half remaining in one go. She orders two shots of Crown Royal and gives one to him. They toast and down the shots.

“To Friday.”

“Magnus.” He offers his hand to her.

“Abigail.” She extends her own. He kisses it, looking into her turquoise eyes as he does.

She ducks her head but smiles, perfect teeth shining white in the dim light.

“Anything you want, my treat. Your money’s no good here.” He motions magnanimously at the fully stocked bar.

“Hmmm...” she thinks of a strong drink. She doesn’t want to play around with a lightweight, girly drink.

“Blue Motherfucker.” The cerulean citrusy cousin of the Long Island Iced Tea.

His eyes sparkle, meeting her grinning gaze, as he orders a drink from the bartender.

“And an original Long Island for myself. Make them both top shelf.”

He has an indescribable old money look.

Abigail can’t control herself, giddy from her first drink and the shot. 

She rubs her calf against his.

He gazes at her, his good eye piercing into her eyes, his dead one still boring into her soul.

She looks back at him, two turquoise gems in a dark setting. He ventures to ask what she does. “What’s your line of work, gorgeous?” 

“Music producer.”

His eyebrows go up. This is no secretary. He should have known by the power suit.

“Entrepreneur.”

They both nod. Does it even matter?

Under the bar, his hand grazes her thigh.

She shivers as she feels pleasure flooding all over. She needs whatever this is building to. He sees her relax. A small grin. A sigh. She’s there for the taking, but he mustn’t scare her off. She’s like a doe.

Gotta play it cool. Easy does it, Magnus.

Their drinks arrive. The bartender smiles a knowing smile as he slides her a $50. “Keep the change, doll.” 

The bartender smiles and looks wistfully at them as she carefully positions the $50 bill in her tip jar. She’s stricken by how handsome he is, but he looks sinister, too… like a refined villain out of movie. The silver streaks in his hair, that cloudy eye.... Tall and slightly ripped – she spills some vodka as she pours another customer’s Cape Cod, transfixed on him. She looks around, mops it up quickly.

Lucky business lady.

Magnus motions to Abigail’s drink. “One of your favorites?”

“I’ve actually never had one of these before! But I knew it was strong, so….”

“Gonna drink me under the table, Missy?” he says with a devilish smirk.

“A lady doesn’t swallow in one gulp!”

“You’d be surprised... I’ve met some very fine ladies who have done just that.” There is a devilish flame in his good eye.

The young producer blushes, sipping the drink quicker than she means to. The sweet, citrus taste tingles as it goes down her throat. She wishes she’d had a proper dinner tonight, not just a salad and a few handfuls of almonds – she’s definitely feeling a healthy buzz.

Magnus drinks from his glass steadily, deeply. He can feel his veins begin to sing, but only slightly. Abigail looks like her head is swimming. “Why did you come here tonight, Abigail?” he asks, slowly dragging out the syllables of her name as he says it.

Abigail steadies herself. “Oh, it’s been a pretty long few weeks at the new job. Just a bit more stress than I’m used to. And my co-workers aren’t making it any better.” She laughs. “Just wanted a little escape.” She kicks his calf gently.

He nods. “I totally get it. People can be real assholes. So, where are you going on this great escape?”

She swirls her drink with her straw. “Oh, probably not far. Just back to my little condo, but hopefully with a sexy friend.” She looks him up and down, lets her hand caress his upper thigh.

Magnus knows he can close in for the kill. She’s a willing victim. He guides her hand to the bulge within his jeans. Their eyes meet as they drain their drinks, fix themselves up in their respective bathrooms and exit, leaving some bills for the bartender.


	4. The Great Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two lives, two passions together, if only for one night.

Just a few short blocks away and they’re at her door and he’s checking out that ass he’s wondered about before. Abigail unlocks the place and they both enter. 

Before she can even turn on the light, Magnus has already removed his coat and is shucking off her blazer. He attacks her neck with rough kisses. She puts her arms around him and moans. This is what she’s been needing! Sensual release has been pounding in her brain ever since she took this damn Dethklok job. Thank goodness Magnus is here to help her get her rocks off. As if on cue, he squeezes her ample ass and snakes his hand past the waistband of her business trousers, tugging and playing with the lacy thong she’s wearing. 

She kisses him and they both open their mouths wide, tasting each other. She sucks lightly on his upper lip as he continues to explore with his hands, finding that welcome slick wetness between her thighs. He teases her clit with a pair of fingers, eliciting more moans from Abigail. His other hand squeezes the side of one breast, feeling its firm weight as it overflows his palm.

She continues to kiss Magnus and moan as one of her hands strokes his engorging manhood though his jeans. She feels his beard on her chest, tickling her breasts. 

Wanting a more comfortable change of scenery, Abigail takes the tall man by the lapels with one hand and leads him to her bedroom. A small corner nightlight glows a warm yellow. They kick off their boots. 

He shoves her onto the bed and watches her clamber upright, loving the way she moves. Her hair, becoming wilder by the minute, shines a deep maroon brown, forming a halo about her head.

Upon the bed, she easily removes Magnus’ open shirt, fully revealing a well-built chest and sculpted stomach. He traces her curves through her shirt, and then expertly undoes the buttons. The guitarist lifts and squeezes her breasts through her white lacy bra. He kisses her deeply, roughly as he pulls her towards himself with one arm, his other hand working her bra free. She shrugs it off, as he starts to suck and lightly bite at one pert breast and flick the nipple on the other. She’s loving the attention. 

Abigail runs her fingers through Magnus’ thick mane of hair, gasping and moaning in pleasure. His silver steaks are almost golden in the night light’s glow. He kneads, licks and mouths her breasts, worshipping them and savoring them. 

Through the pleasure, she somehow collects herself enough to grope around and unfasten Magnus' bulky winged skull belt buckle. She stares at that throbbing, growing cock, now tightly straining against artfully distressed denim. One zip and she’s freeing it, her gentle but firm hands pulling both tough cotton and black polyester away to reveal a splendid specimen of manhood, which she immediately strokes to the point of precum with her long, elegant, manicured hands. She rapidly removes her business trousers and continues to stroke Magnus' stiffening cock.

Pausing to respond to the new pleasure with a throaty groan, the older guitarist then sighs, closes his eyes. When he opens them again, it is to rasp out four words.

“Suck me off, bitch.”

Abigail doesn’t even need the hand on the top of her head to push her down to her knees. Magnus sits on the edge of her bed, stiff as a pole. Abigail locks eyes with Magnus as she savors the taste of the precum and then slowly begins to lathe the cock with long licks. “Mmmm, you like this, big boy? You like it when I taste your cock?” She kneels close to him, her full breasts framed just beneath her toned upper arms and above his knees as she reaches just behind her new lover, squeezing his ass. He hisses with delight.

Abigail slowly licks base and balls, knowing she won’t be able to get Magnus’ entire length into her mouth… yet. No need to rush, though. She wants to enjoy him until she can totally take him in orally. She takes deliberate, measured licks, swiping him with her tongue and building speed, eagerly anticipating how full he can make her feel when he finally impales her with this veritable sword of a cock.

The producer sucks and bounces her head as she caresses the guitarist’s length with her tongue, looking up at him as often as she can. She babies the tip, whirling her tongue over it again and again, even giving it light kisses. Abigail plays with how much of Magnus’ cock she sucks, going up and down its length, trying to be unpredictable. It’s her little way of teasing. Every once in a while, she lets her hands do the work as she kisses and licks at his balls, enjoying their salty, almost spicy taste. 

Through it all, Magnus groans and growls encouragement. 

“Harder.”

“Faster, faster!”

“That’s right, bitch, suck that cock. Bet you’ve never seen one so big.”

Between the groans, exclamations, and sighs, she finds she now has the flexibility and willpower to take him fully in, which he loves. Fighting her gag reflex, she takes him so deep she can practically touch her lips to his balls. He rubs her scalp and groans in pleasure, enjoying this special attention and the warm, enveloping sensation completely. She brings herself to nearly swallow him a dozen more times, his breathing becoming more and more ragged as he feels the pleasure sweep through his body. On the thirteenth time, he is lost to the sensations and, to make matters better, she presses his hips towards her head, taking all he has to offer down her throat and, after she can take no more, simply into her mouth. 

Magnus shudders as he finishes, looking at her in awe as she pants after she swallows all he’s given her and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. She grins at him as she gracefully climbs onto the bed. “You’re quite a challenge to take down, you know.”

“Looked like you were giving me your very best.”

“Sir, I hope the best is yet to come.” She entwines her long fingers in a lacy side of her thong, looking at Magnus seductively.

He cracks a grin and grabs her by the waist, kissing her roughly as he strokes her clit through the lace. Soon, excitement growing anew in his loins, he rips her thong down her legs. She gasps in passion and surprise. Magnus presses a callused hand to her smooth womanhood and feels how wet she is – practically dripping. He teases her innermost muscles down below and draws his fingers in and out, always making sure to brush her pearl in varying strokes. “You like this, huh?”

Moaning, Abigail brings him to lay beside her on the bed, caressing one nipple to hardness. “Why don’t you play with the other one, too?”

"Ooooh, multitasking, huh? Are you ready, Abigail?" He gives her a devilish look as he caresses the nipple with his mouth, both hands now focused on making his lover as slick as possible. His beard brushes her chest, dark brown against deep olive. She moans and sighs as his teeth lightly bite at her hardening bud, overly sensitive to his ministrations. He licks it gently then bites it again as she squeezes the other harder, nearly mirroring the painful pleasure. He escalates his circling motion upon her clit as he bites, and as she moans, she lets herself be swept away by the pleasure. He feels her surge into his hand as she moans and arches her neck, sighing raggedly. 

Magnus is primed for the next stage. Rubbing Abigail’s come onto his hand, he slicks his hardening cock, stroking it to rigidness once more. One small housekeeping item to take care of first – “Babe, you’re on the pill?”

“IUD – go wild.”

He parts her legs and as he brings himself to a kneeling position in the middle of the bed, holding her back and placing her perfect ass on his lap. “Lean one arm on a pillow or two. Grab my shoulder. This'll be a new one for you, I bet.”

Abigail does so and settles in. She looks up and grins at him, white teeth flashing in the dim golden glow. Magnus kisses her, admiring this gorgeous view of his lady, sprawled out, as if in a free fall. Her stomach is stretched tight and her breasts look full and bounce so pleasingly as they move together. 

No longer willing to wait any longer, he guides himself in, being careful but not going slow. Abigail’s slightly open eyes grow wide when she feels his length enter, her walls opening and then constricting as he sinks into her. She gasps and he can see her hand tense on the pillow behind her as she braces herself to take him in completely. She sighs as he pushes his cock inside to the hilt. Her hand on his shoulder finds its way to the back of his neck and they draw together for a kiss. She squeezes his cock inside her, enjoying the sensation. Magnus eyes widen in pleasure - he can't believe how responsive she is to him. The guitarist begins to thrust in and out, and gently bites at Abigail’s lips as he does. She pushes her tongue deep within his mouth as she feels him pulse within herself. Her lips part from his, and she moans. 

Magnus loves how tight she is and how she reacts to his thrusts. Abigail seems to swing from his shoulder on one arm as he moves in and out of her wet nest of muscles, full-bodied moans indicating her pleasure. As he continues his rhythm, he brings one arm across her back and lifts her up, pressing her closer to him. Flipping away her mane of hair, he kisses her neck as she lets out a different pitch of moan. He licks and then bites her neck, gently at first, but as the moan escalates to pure pleasure as he rubs his cock against her clit during his thrusts, he lets his teeth sink into the warm, pulsing flesh, nearly drawing blood.

Abigail feels pain and pleasure again, and it washes over her in a glorious wave, making her pant and arch her back, taking Magnus’ cock deep, hitting her G-spot. She gasps raggedly and exclaims in pleasure as an orgasm hits her. She digs her nails deep into his back, clawing at him in unrestrained passion. He'll be wearing stripes from this tigress for sure. Her IUD rubs against the middle of his shaft, making his eyes go wide as he groans in not-unpleasant surprise. He feels her surge against him again and he bites a new spot on her neck as he grasps her with his forearms under her shoulder blades and his palms resting on her shoulders. His time is close at hand as he feels her come flow onto his lap and run down his naked legs.

Magnus releases Abigail from his bite and sucks in great lungfulls of air as Abigail grasps his face in her palms. She braces herself to let him go as deep as possible on his thrusts, which are becoming stronger each time. Like Abigail, Magnus’ own breathing becomes ragged as pleasure grips him at last and he orgasms with a series of loud, drawn out groans. The guitarist pumps his seed into the shuddering, gasping producer until it spills from her smooth slit. 

Spent now, his manhood slips out as he detangles himself from Abigail and pulls a few handfuls of tissues from the Kleenex box by her bedside and wipes up the spillage. Abigail snags a few, too, and blots herself clean.

Sighing and burying themselves beneath the covers, the two embrace and drift off to sleep.

Just before dawn, Magnus awakes, quietly dresses, kisses a dozing Abigail, and leaves, scrawling his number and name on a scrap of paper from his jacket pocket. As an afterthought, he writes, “Cheers to a great escape.”


End file.
